


devour

by manbunjon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 12:44:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12935556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manbunjon/pseuds/manbunjon
Summary: As Jon lifted his fingers to snuff out the candle he looked down upon them, brushing his fingers across their cheeks tenderly. Ice and fire together, he thought, turning to lay on his back, fighting back sleep. Then he supposed, if Dany was fire and Sansa ice, then surely he must be both





	devour

It had been more than a century since the Septon’s have performed a marriage between three participants, and all those who once had conducted the ceremonies were long ago dead. This left the High Septon to stumble clumsily through the marriage, caught between the dedication to his faith and its dislike of polygamy and his desire to appease the new Queen and her family. He read from a text so old it was nearly crumbling, its pages yellow and waterlogged.

For all the ceremony was awkward the celebratory feast was even worse. The men of court are full of bawdy jokes and crass jokes that make the skin on Sansa’s neck flush warm pink. The entertainment makes matters no better, the jesters given to the queen to celebrate her vows making ribald gestures and offering a lewd depiction of what was to come during their consummation.

The event itself was full of debauchery; wine endlessly free flowing and dances more wild than anything Sansa had previously seen in the Capital. The Queen had forbidden the Dothraki from mating as publically as they were used to and though they followed her orders they were quick to do anything but. By when time comes for the bedding, a true dread for all, Sansa had seen half a dozen nipples and more than a hundred grasping hands and wandering mouths.

She is carried more gently than she had thought possible, perhaps as a result of the way Jon had glared at the group of men and let his hand fall cryptically to the pommel of Longclaw. But she supposes it is also a result of Lord Tormund, who carries her upon his shoulders, and bares his teeth at any man who gets too tough with her. Though they paw at her, pulling at her bliaut until its laces were undone and it was left on the steps far behind her. She was bared in nothing but her chemise, the creamy silk shimmering in the light of the candles that lined the long corridors.

She shivered and Tormund offered her his cloak though she declined, refusing to allow any of the onlookers to know she was in discomfort. She arrived at the bedding chamber not long after the Queen, who she had seen smiling politely despite her obvious discomfort. Daenerys was glad for Ser Jorah, who carried her so kindly that she could barely feel his touch, fending off any prying fingers and cursing at any man who grew too bawdy.

“Lady Sansa.” Said Daenerys, from her place sitting upon the featherbed. She patted the seat beside her and Sansa nodded, crossing the room to take her place beside the silver-haired beauty. She reached for her hand, her fingers pale and soft. “I imagine how awkward this must be for you, my lady.” She began. “I am sorry that you must endure it, although you do it so bravely. I only wished for your greatest protection and this was the way your bro- Jon,” she corrected herself quickly, looking embarrassed. “-and I thought to do it.”

“I understand, your grace.” Sansa said. “And I am grateful. Truly. It is not necessary for you to be so kind to me.”

“Necessary?” she asked, a kind smile on her lips. “No, it is not necessary. It is my greatest delight to bring you happiness. I wish for you to have the life of ease and joy you always dreamed of- and that you deserve.”

Sansa offered a genuine smile and squeezed her hand kindly. “I am honoured to be thought of so highly by you, your grace.”

“Please, you must call me Dany. We are good-wives after all.”

Jon entered the room to find them giggling softly and for a moment of selfishness he was elated that his role in the marriage had become suddenly easier. In truth he loves them both, in different ways, he knows, but he wishes only happiness and protection onto both women.

Jon had been stripped to his breeches, his body divested of everything that had once kept away the wandering hands of tittering women. He entered the chamber in a huff only to sigh in relief, both at being away from the gaggle of women and at the sight of his wives so at ease together. It was a delight.

Dany, who had already grown more than familiar with the scars on his belly, turned instead to pour three glasses of Dornish wine, a gift from Lady Arianne to celebrate their vows. However Sansa could not help but stare, her eyes dragging across his chest and down his belly, eyeing the pock marked silver flesh in horror.

She had heard the stories, of course. Most of Westeros knew the stories of the Lord Commander who had returned from the dead to slay the Night King. “Jon.” she breathed, her fingers reaching for him. He flinched back as she touched him, the cold of her pale fingers making his belly jump.

It was enough to break the spell that had engulfed her and she pulled away sharply. “Forgive me.” She said quickly. “I did not mean to stare.”

“Sansa.” Jon chuckled, catching the hands she offered in apology. He squeezed them gently; his fingers rough and callused against hers. “No need to apologise. Your fingers are merely cold.”

Daenerys placed a chalice of wine in her hand and Sansa took a long drink, feeling the spiced wine run down her throat and bloom with heat into her belly. It tasted of fruits she did not know but ached to taste, and she wondered if one day she would join her husband and wife should they travel south to Dorne.

Sansa sat beside Dany upon the bed. The Queen’s eyes had become a shade of violet he recognized at once, deep and dark with lust. He knew the consummation was only for appearances, as he and Dany had lain together since before the War for the Dawn. And he knew their sheets would not be inspected for signs of bedding. Briefly he considered merely lying beside his wives and falling into sleep, fatigued by the long day of ceremony.

But that was before Sansa and Dany exchanged a lingering glance and both women reached their hands out for him. Jon had known what it was to lay with Dany and what it was to pleasure Sansa, but he did not know what it was to lay with the two women together.

During long nights at the Wall his brother’s had oft mused about women, some of the men speaking of the pleasures of lying with more than one woman. _Two whores,_ they said _, it is the greatest pleasure a man can know._

It was almost like a dance that the two women had rehearsed without his knowledge, like a foreign style of fighting that Jon was not familiar with. If Dany lowered Sansa lifted, if Sansa touched Dany kissed. It was a marvel he had yet to spill himself, for he felt once again like a green boy that was yet to know a woman’s touch.

Dany’s mouth was upon his as she bent low over him. Her lips were warm and fond, her eyes alight with mischief and lust. As Dany’s mouth was upon his, transforming easily from chastity to wildness, Sansa worked at the laces of his breeches. Her fingers plucked at the laces until he could feel the fabric pooling low upon his hips, her tongue tracing a long strip of skin from hip to navel that left him trembling.

Dany reached a hand for Sansa, brushing a strand of tawny hair from her face, and Jon was overcome by the tenderness of the motion. For many moons he had seen their relationship bloom from acquaintanceship to honest affection, from the quick kindness of polite greetings and loyal deference to the genuine pleasure of each other’s company.

He oft found the women in each other’s presence. Daenerys often joined Sansa as she walked about the gardens so that the two could engage in long conversation, Sansa sitting beside the silver haired woman as she attended to the matters of council, offering her advice should the Queen invite it. They bent their heads together and laughed, they took their meals together, they whispered of the people of court and their falsities. They had been as close as sisters even before the High Septon had pronounced them so. And it seemed now that Jon was taking the brunt of their affection.

By some means Jon had been turned onto his back, the women curled close on either side of him, somehow managing to place their lips upon his at once. Jon had never before seen such a thing, a twin pair of lips upon his, three sets of tongues roaming free about each other.

Jon let out a moan before he could stop it, finding Sansa and Dany had reduced him from their mix, greedily claiming their lips for each other. Dany’s hand curled through Sansa’s auburn locks, cupping her cheek, pulling them both together until they were curled over Jon’s chest, allowing him the perfect view of such a spectacle.

Dany urged Sansa forward so that her leg was thrown over the King’s and her hips straddling his, her body braced back against the Queen’s. Jon’s hips jerked instinctively to find purchase against her body. “Patience, Lord Stark.” Dany teased, her voice clouded with desire.

Her free hand found Sansa’s back, skating across her skin until she reached her breast, small and round as a peach, each pink nipple half-peaked in the cool night air and pebbling further under Dany’s twisting fingers. Faintly Jon wondered if they had ever done this before. The thought sent his mind reeling.

He pushed into her with a strangled cry, guided forward by Dany’s even hand. Sansa was warm and soft, her body pulsating against his own, the feeling of being within her one he had never before known.

She could feel Dany against her, the Queen’s hands gentle and urging, doing everything she was able to heighten the girl’s pleasure. Sansa turned her head to claim the woman’s mouth, finding her tongue plying and playful as it ran across her bottom lip. Sansa’s arm was lazy as it reached backward to drape across Daenerys’ neck, leaving Jon to press his lips to her breast, watching in agony and ecstasy as the women moved together, seeming to know instinctively what pleasures to seek.

Dany’s hand had disappeared between her parted thighs, hoping to sooth the steady ache that was only rising with the increasing loudness of their mingling moans. Sansa seemed to take the queue, working tirelessly to pleasure both husband and wife with whom she shared her bed. Jon’s hips lifted, hoping to remedy her inconsistent rhythm and, as Sansa’s eyes pressed closed and her skin prickled with a sheet of gooseflesh, found his goal had been readily achieved.

He held Dany’s hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles, her palm, her wrist, anything he could reach. He was overcome with pleasure, spots brimming before his eyes as he looked upon his wives, the women he had fallen so in love with.

With Dany’s lips upon her neck and Jon’s hips pressed firm to hers Sansa meets her pleasure. He had heard the noises half a dozen times, when he is buried between her thighs under the light of evening, but there was something different now. Something different about the way she clutched at them both, the way she let her eyes droop closed and her head loll back.

Sansa was quick and wordless as she moved, turning sideways to allow Dany take her place, engulfing Jon in one fell swoop. He was close, and they three knew it.

Sansa sucked at the lobe of Dany’s ear, a spot Jon knew she liked, and absently he wondered how she had come to find out such a thing. Sansa’s pale fingers worked at Dany’s body, leaving her writhing and breathless, her silver hair down her back like moonlight, until she is unspooling in their hands.

Jon’s hips twitched a final time before he was headlong into madness, the moans that came from him loud enough to be heard all the way through King’s Landing and to Winterfell, he was sure of it.

It felt like hours before he could even breathe again, let alone see. But when he had finally opened his eyes he saw Dany’s arms wrapped around Sansa, the auburn haired girl pulled tight into her embrace, the words she whispered against the shell of her ear so low they were for Sansa and for Sansa alone. Jon smiled at the sight, turning onto his side to take Dany by the waist, curling against her back.

They lay together, the three of them. Swallowed by passion and brimming with heat, they were wound in the nakedness and glow of sex. Jon shivered, the prickle of gooseflesh peppering his arms and Sansa reached for the furs that had been kicked to their feet, draping the blankets across them until Jon found nothing in their arms but comfort and heat, in more ways than one.

He was not sure how long had passed before he found the soft snores and light breaths of sleep surrounding him. Jon smiled to himself and lifted his head to look upon the women beside him. Dany’s legs wound together with Sansa’s, her head turned to gaze upon him, though her violet eyes had long ago fluttered closed. Beside her Sansa slept softly, her hands clutched tight to both of theirs, pulling them to her chest as though she would never release them.

As Jon lifted his fingers to snuff out the candle he looked down upon them, brushing his fingers across their cheeks tenderly. _Ice and fire together,_ he thought, turning to lay on his back, fighting back sleep. Then he supposed, if Dany was fire and Sansa ice, then surely he must be both


End file.
